


The Camaro: Terrible Vehicle, Great Place for Confessions

by future_fishy



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Coming Out, Multi, in the camaro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 08:03:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5120972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/future_fishy/pseuds/future_fishy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ronan is ready for his second secret to be a little less secret, and the Camaro is as good a place as any.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Camaro: Terrible Vehicle, Great Place for Confessions

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this is super dialogue-heavy, but considering what it is, there wasn't much I could write in the narrative anyway...

The Camaro broke down. This information surprised no one, but it was inconvenient at best and rage-inducing at worse. The best and worse currently sat in the driver’s and passenger’s seats respectively.

“I’ll call Adam.” Gansey sighed, reaching into his pocket for his phone. Ronan huffed.

“Don’t,” he replied, with a little more acid than necessary, “Parrish didn’t get off work till midnight. Call Noah.”

Gansey didn’t have to, because the dead boy was currently haunting the back seat.

“I’ll go get the BMW.” Noah said, far cheerier than anyone ought to be at 3:47 in the morning.

“No, wait.” Gansey turned to face his ghost of a friend. “Get the suburban. Then it will matter less if you crash it.”

Noah was a good driver, relatively speaking, but it was hard for anyone to drive when they might suddenly loose their corporeal form due to the energy fluctuations of a magical forrest. So, emotionally insignificant suburban it was.

“Your right,” Noah added with a giggle, “wouldn’t want to destroy the car where Ronan got his first hickey!”

“Piss up a rope, Noah.”

With that, Noah was gone; leaving the Camaro in a prolonged silence.

In the soft yellow glow of the Camaro’s interior lights, Gansey rested his arms on the steering wheel then rested his head on his forearms. He looked over at Ronan. This savagely beautiful creature he called a friend.

“How would you feel,” Gansey broke the silence, “if me and Jane dated.”

“Fucking relieved. The sexual tension between you and Maggot is starting to affect the rest of us.” Gansey looked a little shocked, “Don’t act surprised. I know you sit up waiting for her to call you.”

Both of them were silent for a long time. It wasn’t awkward, they were too close for that. Sleepless nights quietly sat around Gansey’s cardboard Henrietta had left them immune to awkward silences; the space between talking was just that, space.

“I love her.” Gansey uttered breathily, “I love her so much.”

“I know.” Ronan felt dread sinking in his stomach, “But you can’t-”

Kiss her. Gansey knew the end of Ronan’s sentence without him saying it. And he knew. He knew Blue’s lips were deadly, and kissing her would be like a wasp sting to the mouth. It was ridiculous, what with his mere eighteen years of experience, but Gansey knew Blue was the one. He knew it in some primordial, instinctive way like he knew to eat and drink and stay away from deadly things. There was a small, illogical part of him that would kiss her anyway, if she let him. The rational majority of him would be content with a lifetime of hugs and handholding and whatever else Blue would allow him.

“Gansey.”

It took Gansey a while to process that Ronan had said anything, and longer for his brain to recognise the collection of vowels and consonants as his own name.

“Yeah?”

“I, fuck, I need…” Ronan started eloquently, “Shit. Jesus, fuck.”

Gansey had never seen Ronan look so vulnerable. Not since Nail Lynch’s death.

“I,” Ronan did his smoker breath, “I’m gay.”

“Okay.” Gansey replied, not knowing what else to say. This early morning quest to acquire orange juice was beginning to have a complicated romantic sub-plot.

Ronan did his smoker breath, followed by a breathy, self-depigrcating laugh. “I’ve been keeping that secret my entire life, and all you have to say is ‘okay’?” He didn’t sound angry, for once.

“Kavinsky?” Gansey asked, which was short-hand for a long list of questions.

“No.” Ronan replied, which was the answer to a lot of those questions.

“Adam.” he continued, which was the answer to the others.

“I love him.” Ronan uttered breathily, after a companionable silence, “He doesn’t love me back. He doesn’t _like_ be back, either. Hell, he might not even have the capacity to like me.”

“You don’t know that.” Gansey said, “Just because he dated Jane doesn’t mean he can’t like you. Adam might be bisexual.”

“That’s a fucking huge ‘might’.” Ronan spat, folding his arms and sinking into the vinyl seat.

Gansey turned on the car radio. It would drain the battery, helped along by the interior lights, but he didn’t care. Nothing happened at first, but after a few firm slaps on the dashboard the murder squash song poured out of the speakers. Gansey groaned instinctively. Ronan laughed. Ronan started singing along, and Gansey begrudgingly joined in, ashamed that he knew all the words. When the song was over, Gansey lowered the volume; letting whatever else was on Ronan’s mixtape play in the background.

“What did Noah mean anyway?” Gansey asked with a boyish smile, “About you getting your first hickey? Who with?”

“You’ll laugh.” Gansey looked at him expectantly, “It was Noah.”

 _“What?”_ Gansey practically cackled.

“The poor bastard’s been single for seven years,” Ronan waved his hand dismissively, “he’ll take whatever action he can get.”

“But it’s still Adam? That you want, I mean.”

“It’s always been Adam.”

**Author's Note:**

> I also have a [tumblr](http://futurefishy.tumblr.com) if you want to follow me on there.


End file.
